


5 things to look for in a partner (or how to get an existential crisis and fall in love)

by GufettoGrigio



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Ayrton is bad at feelings, Feelings Realization, Happy Ending, M/M, a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GufettoGrigio/pseuds/GufettoGrigio
Summary: It's stupid, that's what it is. Ayrton is bored, that's why he picks up the old gossip magazine someone abandoned on the coffee table. It's not like he needs any help sorting out his emotional situation. Not at all.
Relationships: Alain Prost/Ayrton Senna, Gerhard Berger/Ayrton Senna, Mika Häkkinen/Michael Schumacher, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nelson Piquet/Alain Prost
Comments: 24
Kudos: 23





	1. (1) Choose someone for their invisible qualities/ (2) Choose someone who is a good forgiver

**Author's Note:**

> If you have read Faith...don't expect anywhere near the same level of poetry nor angst. We do idiots and fuzzy feelings here because I made myself sad writing Faith. That and the fact that a wonderful someone reminded me of how much I love Gerhard Berger and I think he deserves his happy ending. I apologize if the characters are a bit ooc - Ayrton is hard to write as is but not writing him through the usual angle as a tragic, bittersweet, kind of mystical figure is...well, I gave it a shot ok?
> 
> Set in the 1993 season with a bit of poetic freedom. I know the formatting is weird, bear with me.

**(1) Choose someone for their invisible qualities**

It's stupid, that's what it is. Ayrton is bored, that's why he picks up the old gossip magazine someone abandoned on the coffee table. He should have known the meeting would run long and thought to bring along something himself. He flips through the magazine half-heartedly, eyes skimming over the headlines.

**THE TRENDS OF THE SUMMER: Jeans or Skirts?**

**BATMAN RETURNS hits the theaters on June 19!**

**How much watermelon? Dr. Mary’s answer for a perfect summer diet.**

With a sigh, Ayrton settles on a random page.

**_~ LOVE CORNER: 5 Things to Look for in a Partner ~_ **

_Great_ , Ayrton snorts and is about to give up on the magazine all together when something about the bold, pink words on the page snags his attention.

 **Summer loves are hardly here to stay** \- the page reads - **If, as the saying goes, we are meant to meet people for a reason, a season or a lifetime, passionate romances under a tropical sun are likely to belong to the first category. Lust is as powerful and as sudden as a summer shower: it will be clear from the sky come morning. So, how can we find somebody to fit that last ‘till death do us part’?**

It’s not that Ayrton is particularly interested in love - he thinks he knows what his emotional situation is like and _‘I want you by my side as much as I want you to end every race kissing a wall’_ is probably the best description he can give of how he feels about Alain. It’s more the wording of it - a reason, a season, a lifetime. It brings some kind of association up - an F1 season, a reason to get better, a talk of retirement, of a life after, a family - he does not know. He goes on reading.

****_~_** CHOOSE SOMEONE FOR THEIR INVISIBLE QUALITIES ** _~_****

**Choose someone for the feelings they evoke in you. For the quality of their character and soul. Not for their looks, their professional accolades, their paycheck.**

Well - Ayrton thinks - that one doesn’t really apply. Of course he would notice someone for their “professional accolades” with the job they do. What else is he supposed to notice? How kind they are? How understanding? How ready they are to share? To compromise? To make a sacrifice? Yeah, wrong world. What Ayrton noticed first was the skills, the speed, the way he needs to push himself to keep up, to get ahead. There has always been something unique about Alain, something unique in their relationship. Nobody else has been able to spark the hunger and the anger in Ayrton’s chest quite the same as Alain can. No one else has triggered that overwhelming itch he feels when they race together, like a fire burning in his veins - _I am going to be better. I am going to be faster. I want to stare down at you from the highest step of the podium, knowing you will be right there with me. By my side._

Yes, Ayrton is well aware of how sour that tidal wave of emotions can turn when he doesn’t get his way, when a race goes wrong or when Alain ignores him. Surely though, they both make up for that bitterness with sheer intensity. Things are bound to be slightly off between them: they are both committed drivers, their passion binding them together as much as it pulls them apart. After all, neither can afford to put the other first, neither can accept a loss or give away a win. It’s just the way racing is.

There’s a memory though...a memory that springs up in Arton’s mind at that though and that sits somewhat uncomfortably at the bottom of his stomach. There is one person for whom Ayrton has given up a win. It hadn’t mattered really, point wise or Championship wise, but Ayrton knows that when he had lifted his foot off the gas in Japan, he had truly meant it as a gift. For Gerhard. Gerhard who had waved him through just a few laps before with no concern for his own position, who had had his back without complaints for the entire season. Ayrton hadn’t minded letting him win, indeed he had been happy to. Happy that they were both up there, both winners, both with smiles that couldn’t be wiped away from their faces. No, Ayrton wouldn’t share the Championship but it was still a win. A step on the podium that he had just given up because he wanted to thank Gerhard for everything, because he wanted Gerhard to smile too. Would he have done that for Alain? 

_Would Alain do it for me?_ \- Ayrton sneers. Of course not, not that Ayrton would ever need his help. It’s not like Alain needs help either but with Gerhard it is...

A sudden wave of emotion, too close to guilt to be comfortable, washes over him and Ayrton takes his eyes off the page. What the hell is he even doing, making comparisons? Gerhard is not Alain, he doesn’t deserve this. The Austrian has never been anything but good to Ayrton, he has pushed him and encouraged him without ever sparking that mad fire that burns Ayrton alive on race days, overpowering everything else in its bitter poison.

**Choose someone for the feelings they evoke in you.**

_What feelings?_! - Ayrton thinks frustrated. Why is he getting all existential over a stupid magazine that clearly was not meant to cater to racing drivers’ relationships?

The door of the conference room bangs open, Ron Dennis storming out with a dark look on his face.

“Sorry about the wait. Please come take a look at this mess of an engine blueprint and tell me there’s some hope!”

Ayrton promptly drops the magazine back on the coffee table, all thoughts but ‘engine’ flying away from his mind. It’s only when he stands up and goes to move past that something inside pulls at him. Ayrton hesitates a second then turns back, rips the page out and shoves it in his pocket. 

*****

**(2) Choose someone who is a good forgiver**

What kind of contract has a clause that says "I don't want that person as my teammate"? Alain's apparently. 

"I made the mistake of being in a team with you once, Ayrton." - Alain tells him when Ayrton corners him about Williams - "Look how that turned out for me. I should have told Ron to pick Nelson and if I could turn back time I would."

"I was better." Ayrton reminds him, offended. "I am better."

Alain stares up at him, dark eyes cold and furious. His voice is calm when he speaks. "And you went out of your way to teach me a lesson about that. I learn from my mistakes, Ayrton. The contract is signed."

"What do you want me to do then? Not drive? Take a sabbatical like you did last year?"

Alain's lips curl up. "I don't know. Go back to your McLaren."

Ayrton doesn't know which one feels more like an insult, _your_ or _McLaren_.

___

He is not entirely sure why he is screaming at Gerhard. Yes, the Austrian made a mistake on track, a mistake which cost Ayrton the pole. But that’s all there is to it, a stupid mistake for which Gerhard has apologized already, numerous times. Yet, Ayrton just can’t let it go.

“Ayrton, I am sorry.” - Gerhard is saying for what feels like the thousand time - “I miscalculated the corner. I didn’t mean to be in your way!”

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it!” - Ayrton tells him and they should both know that already. Whether intentional or not, the mistake cost Ayrton the qualifier and he is now squarely behind Alain which just won’t do.

Gerhard slumps down further on the low coffee table in Ayrton's room, the bow of his long back looking positively painful.

“I got a penalty for it too, Ayrton. I am basically starting last!”

“Forgive me if I don’t really care about what will be in my rearview mirrors on Sunday!” - Ayrton spits out.

It's like a shock. Gerhard's back goes ramrod straight, his eyes snap on Ayrton and he just stares at him for a long moment, his mouth opening and closing like fish. 

“Because that’s the only thing that ever matters.” He forces out at last and fuck, if Ayrton had slapped him it probably would have hurt less.

Before he can answer, Gerhard deflates again and pinches the bridge of his nose, his head likely pounding. He stands up.

“Ayr, I really, _really_ love you, you know that. But I honestly don’t need this right now. If you want a punching bag, please either find an actual one or go find Prost. He’ll scream back so you can punch him or push him or fuck him or whatever else it is you need right now. I am going back to my room.”

Well, doesn't that shut Ayrton right up? Now it’s his turn getting shocked.

“I don’t want you to go.” - he says, stupidly. He has been yelling for the past half hour, what else did he expect was going to happen? While Gerhard is the kind of person who can have a laugh at himself, he also does not allow people to walk all over him. It’s one of the things Ayrton likes about him, the way the man can shrug off problems but stand his ground. Still, Gerhard is not supposed to _leave_.

“I don’t want you to go.” - Ayrton says again, surprising even himself with how close to a plea that sounds. How did his mood shift so fast?

“And I don’t want you to yell at me!” - Gerhard shoots back but he does sits back down.

“I am not going to yell anymore.” - Ayrton frowns. Gerhard lets out a chuckle, hollow and clearly upset.

“Yes. Yes, you are. And if you are not, you are just going to stew on the couch.”

Fair enough, Ayrton thinks and he plops down on said couch. Gerhard doesn't even roll his eyes, just looks at him with something that is too uncomfortably close to defeat. Ayrton picks up his Bible from where he had left it on his bedside table and tries to focus on his prayers instead. After a moment, Gerhard slumps back on the tabletop, his forehead pressed against the hardwood, eyes closed.

Ayrton is not sure how long they stay like that. Gerhard’s breath evens out after a while and Ayrton keeps his eyes on the thin pages, not really seeing the words, just random splotches of colour and ink where he highlighted passages. He should probably tell Gerhard to go. Tell him that they are fine, that they can sort this out in the morning. He is being selfish, he thinks, flipping a page. Yet, he still doesn’t want Gerhard to leave him. 

When he stands up, he is not sure himself what he wants to do. He wanders into the small kitchen area - nothing fancy, just a microwave and a kettle - and turns the latter on. He stubbornly keeps his eyes on the rising bubbles but when he does sneak a peek out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gerhard hasn’t really moved, his eyes still closed. Without a word, he picks out a cup and a tea bag, pours the boiling water and stirs it, adding just one of those small cream packets that come with the room, the way he knows Gerhard takes his tea. He sets the cup down next to Gerhard on the table. The Austrian blinks, looks up at him then at the cup then back at Ayrton like he can't quite understand. Ayrton is not sure he does either but right now it's enough because that half-mad, half-defeated look from before starts melting away from Gerhard's eyes to leave space for something much warmer. Ayrton goes back to his couch.

It’s still not entirely comfortable, this silence between them. They are not exactly fine, not yet, but Ayrton doesn’t mind because he knows they’ll be, eventually. The doubt that they won't doesn’t even cross his mind.

He flips again through the pages of his Bible, through the pictures, the post-it notes and everything else he has stashed inside it. The crumpled page of a gossip magazine falls out, Ayrton catching it out of reflex. He had half-forgotten about it. He presses it open, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. He is too worked up to be feeling existential, he thinks. His gaze falls on the second point.

**_~_ CHOOSE SOMEONE WHO IS A GOOD FORGIVER _~_**

**Relationships take a lot of hard work and you will both inevitably mess up, hurt each other, make mistakes, and otherwise generally behave like jerks to each other from time to time.**

**So choose a life partner who is a good forgiver. Who can accept your apologies after you mess up. Who can move past arguments with you. Who can forgive you for not being your kindest self sometimes.**

**Because messing up in a relationship is inevitable. It’s the repair, the willingness to forgive and come back together again, that really counts.**

Across the table from him, Gerhard sips his tea quietly. Something uncomfortable falls to the bottom of Ayrton’s stomach, the gnawing feeling he’s missing something.

With a sigh, he slips the piece of paper back between the pages.


	2. (3) Friendship and (4) Laughs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am late. But it's posted!  
> Quick infos you may need. Radio Maria is an Italian radio channel that has catholic prayers on 24/7. It exists in other countries too, to my knowledge. If you are travelling in some remote part of Italy where no radio works because tunnels or mountains, you can be sure Radio Maria will not be at all affected.  
> The song in this fanfic is Battiato's "E ti vengo a cercare" which is one of my favourite song of all times. You can find it[here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBwVbvFDM_k). It fits Ayrton and Gerhard so much. The translation is mine and my skills are absymal but, in my defence, it's a hard song to translate.

**(3) Choose someone who is a good friend**

They race. Alain wins. Ayrton comes second. They share the podium, one up, one down. It’s just a few centimeters difference between the steps but Ayrton ferociously resents each and every one of them. He wants to taste the champagne on Alain’s lips, he craves it with the same intensity. At the press conference they are close enough that their elbows touch, their knees pressed together under the table. They don’t speak a word to each other.

_____ 

They decide to drive down from Spa to Monza. 

There’s two weeks between the races and Gerhard has decided they both need a bit of wind down time away from everything. A part of Ayrton honestly thinks it’s going to be the road trip from hell. He knows he does not make for a good passenger - no racing driver ever does - and Gerhard's way of exorcising his fears is to outrun them at an average speed of 170 kmh. An even bigger part of him though is very much looking forward to it, spending time with Gerhard, just the two of them. They haven’t done much of it this year - being on the grid together is not the same thing as being in the same team or garage. Ayrton hadn’t really been prepared for how much he misses having the Austrian by his side.

They give themselves three days to get down. For once, Ayrton drives like he has all the time in the world and is in no hurry to get anywhere. It sets the mood for the trip, unhurried and cozy, Gerhard flipping through the radio stations, laughing and chatting while trying to awkwardly fit all of his long limbs in the passenger seat. They stop for lunch at some kind of fair in one of the villages they drive through. Ayrton is not a fan of the sausage thing in their sandwiches but Gerhard likes it so he eats for them both. On the way back to the car, he gets Ayrton a giant pretzel and ends up feeding it to the Brazilian because Ayrton is feeling childish and won’t let him drive. The afternoon rolls by them slowly, the sun peeking in bright rays between the shadows of the mountains. Gerhard rambles on about a disastrous weekend in Monaco, laughing so hard at the memory that Ayrton at times struggles to follow him.

“Aren’t you tired?” - Gerhard asks him, after he has managed to catch his breath. Ayrton shakes his head. He really isn’t. 

“I wouldn’t mind driving a bit more. I feel like...like...”

“Like there is road?”

“Sim. Like there is road.” 

Gerhard’s smile is a mirror of his. “On you go then.”

The engine is a soft, familiar rumble and Ayrton can see Gerhard growing quieter, eyes slipping shut. It spreads warmth in his chest - to be so trusted that Gerhard, of all people, feels safe falling asleep in a car with him behind the wheel.

___

They drive down the Alps the day after. It’s Gerhard’s turn to drive and Ayrton shuffles to the passenger seat. They are picking up Italian stations now but before Ayrton can even turn the radio on, Gerhard grabs his wrist. Startled, Ayrton looks up.

“You know how I love you very much?” - Gerhard asks him, completely serious. Ayrton nods, suddenly worried. 

“Well, that will end really fast if you put Radio Maria on.”

Lord have mercy, one of these days Ayrton is going to lose his patience and do something stupid like smack Gerhard or shave his head or put a snake in his shoes.

“You are a heathen, you know that?”

Gerhard laughs, letting go of his wrist. Ayrton feels an instinctive need to chase those warm fingers and put them back.

“No, I am just not a masochist. You can read me your psalms or whatever, if you want, but God help me, if you put that nightmare on again I will wrap the both of us around a tree.”

“Fine!” Ayrton concedes, settling on a random music station and flipping out his Bible. He doesn’t really need to be reading it aloud but now he thinks he will, just to annoy Gerhard. Slowly, he drifts through the pages, tucking in stray pieces of paper and a picture of Sao Paulo. He needs to find the time to take Gerhard around after the race this year.

“Can you understand what it says? The song?” - Gerhard suddenly asks, lifting Ayrton’s attention off the pages and to the slow song playing from the radio.

“Doesn’t driving for Ferrari come with an in-built Italian dictionary?”

Gerhard laughs. “Please, Ayr?”

With a smile, Ayrton hums.

_ E ti vengo a cercare _

_ Anche solo per vederti o parlare _

_ Perché ho bisogno della tua presenza _

_ Per capire meglio la mia essenza _

“And I come searching for you” - he starts - “Even only to see you or to talk. Because I need your presence to better understand my essence.”

The whole of the song is too fast to fully translate, some words slipping Ayrton’s understanding. It doesn’t matter. There’s something about it, about the melody, the words, that settles over them, the slow tune like a prayer. 

_ Un rapimento mistico e sensuale _

_ mi imprigiona a te. _

_ Dovrei cambiare l’oggetto dei miei desideri _

_ Non accontentarmi di piccole gioie quotidiane _

A sensual and mystical rapture binds me to you, the song says and Ayrton can almost feel it as the words leave his mouth. Not a rapture, not violent, but he feels it, feels something shift, come lose his chest, in the air around him. 

I should change the object of my desire - he sings and it’s Gerhard’s breath catching this time, his body going still in the seat beside Ayrton. 

Non accontentarmi di piccole gioie quotidiane, the song whispers through the static and something aches in Ayrton’s chest, choking him up before he can say the words. He stops. Piccole gioie quotidiane - he thinks, letting the thought settle into his chest. Small, everyday happiness. Don’t settle for small, everyday happiness. That’s what the song is telling him and yet...isn’t it what this is? This moment? This song? This roadtrip? A small, everyday happiness?

For the first time, Ayrton realizes he is happy. Truly happy. Here, now. He is. If he could just stay here, maybe he wouldn't mind never reaching Monza. It feels nothing like he is settling and Ayrton definitely doesn’t feel like giving any of it up, not even for that desire, that desire

“Gerhard, how do you know if you are in love?”

Gerhard, who is driving through a corner, breaks wrong and ends up with a wheel off the tarmac before he can retake control of the car.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Senna! Warn a man?”

“Watch your mouth! You should always be prepared for anything!” - Ayrton reprimands because really? This man calls himself an F1 driver? He should definitely know better. Ayrton un-clenches his fingers from the dashboard.

“I am serious, Berger.”

Gerhard sighs, eyes now stubbornly on the road. “Well, wanting to jump their bones aside, you want them to be happy. That’s how you know. You want them happy even if it hurts you sometimes, though that’s only sometimes. Usually, you are happy when they are happy. And they make you happy.”

“So, everybody is happy, that’s what you mean?”

That, makes sense. Except that it doesn’t because how is Ayrton supposed to be happy that Alain is happy? Alain being happy means that Ayrton lost. Ayrton can be proud and can be in awe but happy, That makes no sense.

Gerhard just shrugs. “Yeah? A good love is about happiness, that’s what I think. I have no clue who said it but love is the condition in which the happiness of the other person is essential to your own." 

“I guess.” Ayrton says and if he doesn’t sound too convinced, Gerhard lets him be anyway.

“Are you in love?” - Ayrton asks. Gerhard looks like he swallowed a lemon.

“Why are we having this conversation?”

“Isn’t it what friends do, have conversation on car trips?”

Gerhard opens his mouth then seems to think better. He turns to look at Ayrton, the moment stretching for way too long - Ayrton is about to yell at him to keep his eyes on the road, for the love of God - but then the Austrian just closes his mouth instead and turns back to the road.

“Another thing that people do on road trips” - he says slowly - “it's kick said callous, annoying friends out of the car.”

It takes Ayrton aback. He is not entirely sure what he did wrong: if Gerhard didn’t want to answer him he could have made a joke. Yet, he knows the Austrian well enough to know that his mood has turned.

“ Es tut mir leid ” - he whispers, going back to looking at his Bible. I am sorry.

Gerhard shakes his head, that horrible, half-defeated look flickering over his face. “You don’t even know what you are apologizing for.”

He raises a hand before Ayrton can speak again.

“Just tell me a bit more of the song, please?”

Oh, Ayrton thinks. That he can do.

_ E ti vengo a cercare _

_ Con la scusa di doverti parlare _

_ Perché mi piace ciò che pensi e che dici _

_ Perché in te vedo le mie radici _

_ E ti vengo a cercare _

_ Perché sto bene con te _

_ Perché ho bisogno della tua presenza _

_ And I come searching for you _

_ Using the excuse that I need to talk to you _

_ Simply because I like what you think and what you say _

_ Because in you, I see my roots. _

_ And I come searching for you _

_ Because I feel good when I am with you _

_ Because I need your presence. _

Ayrton lets the words fade, realizing only when he is quiet that Gerhard had been humming along too. The Austrian smiles, warm again.

“Cheers, Ayrton. I think, I like that song.”

There’s no more words needed. Gerhard goes back to driving, the car flicking smoothly through the bends of the road.  Absentmindedly, Ayrton bends down to pick up the papers that had fallen out of his Bible when Gerhard had swerved off earlier. Picture, picture, postcard, a post-it with a phone number and the ripped page of a gossip magazine. Ayrton stops. He reads: 

**_~_ ** **CHOOSE SOMEONE WHO IS A GOOD FRIEND** **_~_ **

**If this person were not your lover, would you want them to be your friend?**

**When the fires of passion ebb down in your relationship, when you’re sick, when you’re stuck on a ridiculously long road trip together, can you appreciate the friendship you have with this person?**

**Sex and romance is a slice of the pie of relationship. Friendship with the other person is, perhaps, an even bigger slice. Pick a partner who makes you happy. Pick a partner who makes a good friend.**

“I think I am.” - Ayrton says suddenly - “In love, I mean.”

This time, Gerhard doesn’t swerve off the road, just makes an odd noise, something between a choked laugh and a choked sob. 

“I know, trust me.”

“Am I?” - Ayrton asks. Gerhard sounds so sure of it. 

Gerhard shrugs. “What’s with the existential questions, today? You are the one who should know, anyway.”

I do think I am - Ayrton thinks, his mind drifting to Alain. When he turns around, Gerhard's profile is bathed in the warm light streaming in from the windshield, specks of dust lighting up like golden freckles over his features. Yes, Ayrton is in love. Then why does it feel like he is lying?

**(4) Choose someone who makes you laugh**

Ayrton retires out of the Portuguese GP. Alain takes second and the championship. Ayrton waits at the corner of the main stand, in clear view of the track but invisible from the eyes of the crowd. When Alain gets out of the car, he looks around for Ayrton. Their eyes meet and Ayrton is sure they both feel it, the spark of electricity. You won. I need to be up there with you. Then the thought freezes Ayrton: Alain is leaving. It doesn’t matter that he won. It doesn’t matter that Ayrton lost.

Gerhard crashed out of the race badly. Ayrton spends the night with him to make sure he does not have a concussion.

_____

Alesi has scratch marks all over his nose and cheekbones and a smile that is just this side of amused. He is the perfect partner in crime, Ayrton thinks as he holds up the stationery bag. 

"Just tell me when he has the tests, please?"

The Frenchman looks at the bag then at his watch. 

“Tell you what” - he says - “If you have time tomorrow afternoon, I can let you into the garage and you can do it to his race car.”

Now, Ayrton is a pious man and he should know better than to fall into temptation...but he never claimed to be a saint.

That’s how he finds himself sitting on the floor in front of Gerhard's Ferrari trying to pick between color coded or random rainbow for his attack plan.

"Need a hand?" - Jean asks him. He is more on board with the entire thing than Ayrton expected. After all, if the Brazilian messes with Gerhard's race car, it would be his head on the chopping board.

Jean grabs one of the packs from the bag and shrugs when Ayrton tells him."Bastard pulled the handbrake on me while I was driving. He deserves what he gets. And you'd never do anything to hurt him. Alain, maybe, but not Berger."

“He got me arrested for 24 hours”

“And you retaliated by gluing his credit cards together, not by crashing into him and then refusing to speak to him.”

Jean has a point, Ayrton supposes. They work in silence for a long time, giving up on any complicated designs in favour of just not putting two pieces of the same colour next to each other. The wheels are the hardest part to do because the glue doesn't stick properly. Ayrton would get frustrated but he keeps thinking of the face Gerhard will make when he sees his car and he just snickers instead. 

He catches Jean looking at him odd and stops, realizing he has been basically laughing to himself on and off for a good ten minutes.

"What?" - he asks grumpily, uncomfortable with getting caught. Jean shrugs with a smile.

"If you are already laughing like that I don't even want to know what Gerhard will do when he sees it. Lose a lung or something."

"That's why I am doing it" - Ayrton admits with a giggle.

Jean seems to consider his words for a moment, his smile dropping.

"He is really special to you, isn't he?" - he says - "I mean, you would give your everything for any of us if our lives were in danger on the track but Gerhard...he is the only one you go out of your way to do stupid things like this for."

Surprised by the sudden seriousness, Ayrton looks up and catches his eye but Jean just holds his gaze, unbothered.

"He is my friend" - Ayrton explains slowly, confused by why Jean is telling him this. Ayrton is pretty sure they never spoke outside of race-related things before and when they did it was smalltalk.

"If you say so." Jean says, looking for all intent and purposes like he just figured out the secret of the universe. It leaves Ayrton even more confused. Is there something else he should have answered? Something else he should know?

At last, they step back to admire their handy work. It took them the better part of three hours but it was totally worth it. Gerhard's Ferrari looks glorious. Even Jean is snickering now. Lord above, this has been one of Ayrton's most brilliant ideas ever. He kind of feels bad for the car but it looks...it looks...Ayrton tilts his head. There’s a spot missing, just behind the left front wheel. It should be either yellow or green if they don’t want to repeat the colours but they only have blue and pink left and it bugs Ayrton. 

"I think we'll need to make do." Alesi says, having noticed the spot too. Ayrton is about to agree then he thinks of his Bible - he’s pretty sure he can spare one of those he folded to use as bookmarks - and scrambles for the book. He is lucky. There’s only one yellow and he grabs it, sliding it out of the pages, opening it and sticking it into place. There. Perfect. 

Some other things have fallen out of the pages at the movement because a book is not made to stash as many things as Ayrton regularly shoves inside his Bible. He picks them up from the floor: a picture, a paper clip, a postcard and that cursed gossip magazine page. He has read it all by now. All five points of it and if he remembers correctly the fourth one should be...

**_~_ ** **CHOOSE SOMEONE WHO MAKES YOU LAUGH** **_~_ **

**Pick a partner who can help you laugh – at yourself, at them, at the ridiculousness of life, who can crack you up even on your grumpiest morning. Humor makes life feel better and a partner who can make you laugh is a wonderful quality in a lifelong mate.**

It's a slap. A shock. A bucket of freezing water upturned on his head. He looks up at Gerhard’s Ferrari, now completely covered in a rainbow of post-its. 

Oh. 

OH.

(After staring in utter disbelief at his car for a solid five minutes, Gerhard does laugh so hard he almost hyperventilates. It would be a complete win if Ayrton wasn't now terrified of finding his own car stuck in a block of jelly or something.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are, as always, very appreciated.


	3. (5) Choose someone who makes you a better person

**(5) Choose someone who makes you a better person**

"How would I know if I am in love?" - Ayrton asks, pretty much out of the blue, after having cornered his newest teammate after a track test.

The kid stares at him for a moment, waiting for the catch. When nothing seems coming, he shrugs. "You are."

For a moment Ayrton thinks that what the kid means is "You do" as in “You just do” and that it was his not so great skills with English that tricked him. Then the cheeky brat grins. "If you mean Gerhard, that is." 

Ayrton feels like screaming. Or running him off the track as soon as he gets the chance. The actual nerve on him. 

"You are also obsessed with Prost” - Mika goes on - “but that's a whole other warm can...can of worms? Issues. That."

“Gerhard is my friend.” - Ayrton tries again, feeling extremely childish and entirely stupid.

The kid shrugs. “One doesn’t preclude the other.”

 _Choose somebody who is a good friend_.

“I meant he is only a friend.” - Ayrton specifies.

“Because you love Alain? Or because you don't want to kiss the living daylights out of him?”

Well, yes. But also, no. How exactly can Ayrton explain that a stupid gossip magazine has given him an existential crisis and he might actually be re-evaluating everything he thought he knew in terms of relationships? He can’t, so he shuts his mouth and doesn’t. 

“He loves you back, you do know that?” - Mika asks after a beat, eyes soft and earnest. He is too young, Ayrton thinks, to still be this kind, to still genuinely care for a rival’s happiness.

He thinks of how Michael looks at the Finn, fond in a way that has nothing to do with the awed respect he looks at Ayrton himself with. It’s clear for Ayrton to see: he gives it a couple of years or a really bad race. Maybe it’s one of those things that are obvious only from the outside: Mika and Michael being as transparent to him as Ayrton and Gerhard apparently are to them. He wonders if he should say anything but really, Mika is the kind of smart that will probably know when it’s time.

“Just - Mika says - “Just know that you have to choose. If you kiss Berger, you need to be sure. You can’t go back to Prost. Gerhard is a good person. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart broken. He really loves you.”

He is right and they both know it. Ayrton turns around and leaves him there. 

___

“That wasn't good, Ayr”

"What wasn't?" 

Gerhard sighs. They are sitting in a small restaurant in Suzuka, hiding away for their lunch break. Ayrton usually enjoys his fish but he is not sure the things in his plate qualify as such. He is also not entirely sure they fully qualify as dead. Gerhard is never ordering for him again. 

"What you did to Prost on the podium last week. It's not good sportsmanship."

Ayrton shrugs. Alain won the Championship and, to add insult to injury, he is also leaving. Why should Ayrton play nice when he is hurt and angry? They have never played nice to each other anyway.

"Since when do you care?"

"Don't be difficult." - Gerhard chides him, stealing one of Ayrton's shrimp things from his plate - "I am not his biggest fan and you know that. But he is a good driver, he admires you, respects you and he is leaving. He probably would have wanted to exchange helmets even but you made it impossible for him."

"He just wanted to shake hands."

"And you refused him even that, what was he supposed to do?"

Ayrton is not a fan of this conversation anymore. "He is leaving, Gerhard. _Leaving._ " He doesn't know how else to say it, the magnitude of it escaping all words he knows in any language. 

Gerhard reaches out for Ayrton's chopsticks free hand, his smile a soft, kind thing that does not quite meet his eyes.

"That's why I am telling you this. You mean a lot to him and he means a lot to you. If you don't take this chance to fix things, you won't get another. You'll regret it, Ayrton. You know you will."

He is right, of course he is right, Ayrton is aware of it. He is also aware that this isn't about sportsmanship or about Prost's hurt feelings. Ayrton can see it now, he can feel it in the faint desperation hidden away under the kindness of Gerhard's grip on his hand. The grip of someone who doesn't want to let go, ever, but is about to anyway. Because Gerhard dislikes Alain, he is jealous of him for reasons that have nothing to do with racing and everything to do with Ayrton - yet here he is, telling Ayrton off for reasons that have very little to do with Prost himself and a lot to do with Ayrton’s happiness.

 _A good love is about happiness, that’s what I think. -_ Gerhard had said _\- Love is the condition in which the happiness of the other person is essential to your own._

Ayrton turns his hand around, curling his fingers up to hold Gerhard's hand back.

"Why do you always point out my flaws?"

Gerhard looks down at their hands, surprised, his eyes growing warmer.

"It's not like you have many, Senna. With these things, sometimes it helps to hear them aloud."

"Danke."

The corners of Gerhard's eyes crinkle when he smiles.

"You are welcome. What else am I here for, otherwise?"

They walk back to the track. Gerhard is lost somewhere in his thoughts which is unusual but Ayrton doesn't mind his silence. He thinks of their hands joined on the table, of Gerhard's grip on his wrist, of how his eyes had sparkled in joy when Ayrton had won last week, of how comfortable his hug had been. He thinks of pranks and endless days by the seaside, of sunny road trips and shared podiums. And then his mind flits to the advice of an old, stupid gossip magazine.

**~ CHOOSE SOMEONE WHO MAKES YOU A BETTER PERSON ~**

**Ultimately, choose a partner whose goodness and ways of being in the world inspires you to be better yourself.**

**Choose someone who brings out and strengthens parts of you that you may not have known existed.**

"You make me better."

"What?" Gerhard asks, startled by Ayrton's voice. Ayrton shakes his head.

"I am going to speak with Alain after the race." 

Gerhard sneaks an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in briefly. The desperation is still there, clinging, but Gerhard is smiling, truthfully, his mischievous grin curling up his lips.

"Good. You come find me before you leave, though? I got something to help you."

"If it's some sort of terrible alcohol that is going to make me see double after the second shot you can keep it."

"My alcohol is never bad, take it back." - Gerhard says, terribly offended - "Dutch courage! Also, don't you want two Alains?"

 _No, I don't_ \- Ayrton thinks, almost says but bites his tongue. Not yet.

___

"I thought I was in love with you."

Alain blinks. "What?"

Ayrton just stands there, on the door of the French’s motorhouse, and doesn’t repeat himself.

Alain sighs. “Give me a second.“ He shuffles back inside, leaving the door open. He was on the phone when Ayrton knocked and has left the line connected. Ayrton lets himself in while Alain finishes the conversation. 

“No, nothing. It’s just Ayrton, I have to go. I’ll call you back.” - there’s a pause - “No. I am not going to relay that to him. Yes, I do know what it means. Good night, Nelson.” He cuts the call, dropping the receiver back in place with what sounds suspiciously like a “Putain le Brésil et tous ses habitants.” 

He turns to look at Ayrton, now sitting on his bed. Ayrton stares back. In terms of conventional beauty, Alain has never been much to look at. He is too short, his nose too big and a bit crooked, his forehead too high. Yet, he is magnetic and even Ayrton, who has the gravitational pull of the sun itself, can’t help but be attracted. That’s why they are here, after all.

"I thought you hated me." Alain says after a long minute. Ayrton shrugs. 

"Maybe I do. Maybe it’s both. Isso importa?”

Alain grimaches. No, it doesn’t really matter if it’s both, not with them. “So you thought you were in love with me?”

“There is no other way to explain...to explain…”

“Us?”

“Sim.”

Alain drops down to sit next to him on the bed. He looks thoughtfully at a bottle of brandy on the cabinet in the corner. 

“And now?” He asks.

“I think I still love you.” 

“Mais..are you in love with me?”

Ayrton doesn’t answer. English is a good language to have this conversation in, he thinks. He has no idea if French makes the difference but he knows it’s not so clear cut in Portuguese. He’d need more words to explain himself and it would be hard to get them out around the knot stuck in his throat. 

His silence is enough. Alain stumbles up, crossing the room to the brandy. There’s glasses in the cabinet and he picks two out, offering one to Ayrton. The Brazilian reaches out his hand and Alain comes back and gives it to him, already full. He also brings the bottle with him. 

He sits on the floor this time, right in front of Ayrton. Ayrton himself would hate the position but Alain doesn’t seem bothered that he has to look up as long as he can face him straight on. Habit, Ayrton supposes.

"Nobody makes me as happy as you do" - Alain admits. It hurts him to do so, it's plain to see on his face. The fact that he downs his glass immediately after doesn’t help either. 

"Nobody makes you quite as miserable either." Ayrton says and he means it. They both mean it. Alain nods. 

"We chose to destroy, Ayrton. We told each other 'Fuck you' instead of 'Fuck the rest of the world'. Today on the podium, the hug, it was nice. It was how it could have been. We chose different and I think it’s ok like that too. That spark between us, the racing...maybe we would not have had it if we had been friends. If we had been…”

“More?”

“Oui.” Alain looks down, where his hands are still holding his glass. It’s empty now and he fills it back up but doesn’t drink it, just sloshes the amber alcohol around.

“We tore each other apart Ayrton.” - he says - “For that spark, we tore each other apart. We are both better for it and yet we are also left bleeding and bruised. Do we even know how to fix that? Can we heal each other if, after all these years, we still don’t even know how to be tender with one another?”

That's a good question. One Ayrton has no answer to. So he tries. He reaches down just as Alain pushes up, their lips meeting halfway, their teeth clashing for a second before Alain tilts his head further and then that’s it. That’s good. Warm and wet and oh, so nice, a tingling like electricity running through them. A shock.

And then it’s over. Alain pulls back, Ayrton sits up. They look at each other.

“Gerhard” Alain taunts with a smile.

“Nelson.” Ayrton shoots back and feels his lips quirk, the warmth of secret laugh shared between them.

“Maybe in another life, Ayrton” - Alain says, eyes drifting wistfully to the telephone.

Ayrton knows the feeling. Maybe in another life it would be different. Maybe in another life they would have chosen each other as soon as they met and it would have worked out. In this one, they both are seeking out other people, people who love them, people who they love. No matter how magnetic the attraction between them, for the sake of those people, Ayrton knows they must let go.

"Can we promise then” - he offers, holding out his hand - “Not in this life?"

Alain takes his hand. "Not in this life." 

They shake on it and somehow it doesn’t hurt. Ayrton thought it would. This is it. This is them. They have closed the door and have thrown away the key. Yet, somehow, they are closer now than they have maybe ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am...not entirely happy with this chapter? But also, Mika? I don't know. This is one of the first bits of this story I wrote, back when it was a challenge not to fall into a Prosenna trap, so now that I am fully down the Bersenna rabbit hole I am not sure how/if it fits? Maybe just ignore me. I am also late, I am aware😅
> 
> And oh, Gerhard actually did ended up giving Ayrton shots after the race which did not lead to a nice conversation with Alain but to Eddie Irvine getting punched in the face for unlapping himself (it was his first race in F1) So there you have it😂
> 
> Next chapter is the last: (6) Actually love them (or: now try and convince them you mean it). Good luck Ayrton.  
> Thank upu as always to anyone reading and leaving kudos/comments!! You always make my day💚


	4. (6) Actually love them (or now try and convince them you mean it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one, here we go.  
> Quick disclaimer: Gerhard makes a reference to the Imola '88 controversy and is very uncharitable about it. Different people have different opinions about it (restart, not passing at the first corner and so on) but for reasons that will be clear, it makes sense for him to voice the absolute worst scenario. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :)

**(6) Actually love them (or: now try and convince them you mean it)**

“You want me dead" - Gerhard moans - "You brought me here to die."

Ayrton rolls his eyes. It’s not even  _ that _ hot.

"It's Brazil. You agreed to come, what did you expect?"

"Fresh fruit, cocktails and beautiful women?"

"There's fruit in the fridge, a bar down the road and you can go out in one of your Ferrari t-shirts. I am sure the prancing horse will work its magic even here."

Gerhard hums. "But Ayrton, all those options involve  _ moving _ ."

__

Sao Paulo has been a great idea. 

After his shamble of a season, Ayrton had needed to just get away, see his family, catch his breath. Even just stepping off the plane and onto Brazilian soil had made him feel instantly better, more grounded. The language, the food, the people - with his mind consumed by the frenetic rhythm of the F1 season, he hadn't realized quite how homesick he was until he had stopped. 

Gerhard too had been happy to come. Ayrton's family loves the man and is spoiling him rotten. His Portuguese is still interesting and would probably improve greatly if he stopped sticking by Ayrton's side like glue and making the Brazilian speak for him. To the first part Ayrton has no complaints; the second is putting to the test his translation skills and expanding his knowledge of terrible pick up lines and dirty jokes. Ayrton thought it would bother him - dealing with the more flirtatious part of Gerhard being directed at other people now that Ayrton knows his own feelings - but he finds it doesn’t. Aside from being his playful self, Gerhard never seems to put any actual effort in other people, even when the offer is there, his attention firmly on Ayrton. 

The only rival Ayrton has found comes in the form of his old hammock. Gerhard loves the thing maybe even more than his car and will happily waste his afternoons away just swinging in it, basking in the shadow of the orange trees. 

Ayrton is still not sure how he even manages to fit in it, considering the hammock had been built for a teenage Ayrton. It's between funny and cute, how the Austrian manages to arrange his long body on it, a stray limb always dangling off.

Today it’s a leg, Gerhard's bare toes occasionally tapping against the coarse bark of the orange tree to keep the swing of the hammock going. From his spot on the porch steps, a post-lunch cup of coffee cradled in his hands, Ayrton finds himself watching him. He had made a show of stealing a book, Gerhard, one of Ayrton's own, before retreating outside to the shade. It lays forgotten on his stomach now, carelessly propped open, and Ayrton follows its movement with a smile, watches it rise and fall in the slowing rhythm of Gerhard’s breath. He is tanning, Ayrton notices as Gerhard shifts and the book almost falls off. Beneath the collar and above the sleeves of the Austrian’s t-shirt, there’s just the hint of paler skin and it looks good on him. Quite touristy but good. 

Ayrton puts his coffee down and stands up.

"Gerhard" - he calls and, when the Austrian opens his eyes, Ayrton kisses him. 

It’s nothing like kissing Alain, nothing. Gerhard lets out a strangled moan at the contact, his eyes going wide, and Ayrton swallows the sound, presses closer, using it as an advantage to slip his tongue inside and deepen the kiss. And Gerhard...Gerhard comes alive beneath him, his hands flying up to grasp Ayrton’s shoulders, to pull him in harder, closer. It's bruising, it’s raw, it's perfect. It's lips and tongues and teeth and it's  _ Gerhard _ . If Ayrton had any doubts left, they are gone: he never wants to let it end.

Then he is staring at the sky, back in the grass as the front door slams shut. 

__

Gerhard comes back later that night. Ayrton is out back, sitting on the swing on the porch. It's cooler outside now, the sun having set almost an hour before. Ayrton puts his feet down, stopping the swing, the squeak of the rusty joints that has lulled him until now suddenly grating on his nerves. 

Gerhard is a mess. He is drenched in sweat, hair plastered to his forehead and still bare feet. He didn’t even stop to take his shoes nor his passport or wallet. It had settled Ayrton at first - without money or a passport Gerhard couldn't leave  _ leave _ and it meant he'd be back eventually - but then he had also realized he had no clue where Gerhard could spend the afternoon in those conditions.

"Are you alright?" - he asks, once it’s clear that Gerhard is just going to stand there wide eyed, staring at him - "Where did you go?"

"Church. The one down the street." - Gerhard says. He sounds out of breath, like he ran all the way back. - "Why did you do that?"

Now it’s Ayrton’s turn to stare. “Because I love you.”

Gerhard stumbles back, looking like he is going to fall to the floor, something close to a laugh, maybe a sob tearing from his lips before he presses both of his hands over his face to stop it. He is shaking. Ayrton is lost. Has he read it wrong? Have they all read it wrong? Ayrton doesn’t think so. 

"Please, Gerhard. I thought...I thought you liked me?"

At that Gerhard does laugh, low and slightly hysterical. 

"Like you? _ Like _ you? People don't  _ like _ you, Senna.” - he says, shaking his head - “God, don’t you understand what you do to people? What you do to me? I have been in love with you since forever and now...and you are...”

He cuts himself off, breathes in. Ayrton sees the effort it takes him as he lowers his hands, shoving them in his pockets to hide the shaking. He straightens up.

“Why?” - Gerhard demands - “Why would you...is it because of Alain? Because he is leaving? I know I am not him. I tried but...I am not. I know that. But Ayrton, I am happy just being your friend. I am not going to leave, I promise. You don’t need to...” 

He makes some sort of vague gesture to indicate them, together, kissing.

_ Oh  _ \- Ayrton thinks -  _ No _ .

“This has nothing to do with Alain”

"No?"

"No." 

"But then…"

Ayrton doesn't let him finish. He reaches out, takes advantage of Gerhard's lowered hands to capture the Austrian's face in his own palms.

" _ No _ " - he repeats and pushes up on his tiptoes to kiss him again. He doesn't get to.

Gerhard's hands fly up to his shoulders, his fingers digging bruises in Ayrton's skin, and he wrenches the Brazilian back, not unkindly, never, but back anyway and holds him there, at arm's length. For the first time, Ayrton can see his eyes clearly, bloodshot and wide, a wild, frantic look in them, like a cornered beast.

“Ayrton” - he pleads, his voice cracking and completely unguarded - “Ayrton, please, I can’t. God knows I’d give you anything. Don’t ask me this.”

And Ayrton knows. He knows. He is Ayrton Senna. He could have anyone he wanted, simply because of that. No other effort on his part required. He knows that applies to Gerhard too - Gerhard who can lose to him and still smile, Gerhard who never fails to make him laugh, who looks at Ayrton like he wants to cry every time he thinks it's Alain in Ayrton heart, who loves him because of all of what being Ayrton means. But that’s it, that’s the thing. With Gerhard there is so much that Ayrton wants and none of those things are about himself. He wants Gerhard to smile. He wants him happy. He wants him safe and confident in his place by Ayrton's side. Aside from another Championship, there's nothing Ayrton wants more in the world than this. 

“Gerhard…” he starts but Gerhad shakes his head, that familiar, awful, defeated look written all over his face, in the lines of his body even as he holds Ayrton still.

“Ayr, I love you. I really love you. When you wake up tomorrow and regret it,  _ I can’t. _ ”

“I am not going to regret it.” Ayrton says, firm. 

That takes Gerhard aback. He opens his mouth then closes it then opens it again. Had he expected Ayrton to give up? To admit he only wanted one night? Is that it? Because Ayrton has no plan to do that and he will repeat it too if it helps.

In the end, it’s Gerhard who speaks first.

"I need to sleep on it" 

__

Sleep on it apparently means waking up Ayrton at three in the morning by appearing like a ghost on the doorway of his bedroom.

Ayrton is still trying to get back the ten years of life he lost with the fright when Gerhard speaks. "You are in shock because Prost is retiring. Prost is in shock because he is retiring. What happens when you get over it? When you are both better?"

Ayrton blinks, trying to see the Austrian's face in the darkness. His voice is steadier, but it's the steady of somebody who has rehearsed a speech.

Ayrton supposes his only option is telling the truth.

"I do love him, Gerhard, but if we were meant to be together, we messed up. I kissed him, if that helps. It didn't change anything. He has Nelson. I have you. I am in love with you. If it was ever meant to happen, it will be in another life."

“Oh” - Gerhard says and disappears again.

__

He comes back half an hour later, just as Ayrton is starting to fall asleep again.

"Don't hate me." - Gerhard starts - "But with 'another life' you mean after you die?"

"Yes?"

"Not something like, 'after you retire'? That's got to be 'another life' by some definition of it."

Ayrton is not sure he following this conversation anymore.

“Gerhard, there is only one life. What comes after is not in our hands.”

"There's only one start to a race, Ayrton. For everybody but you, I guess."

There are no words to answer that. Not even swear ones. In stunned silence Ayrton stares, glares, gapes at Gerhard. The Austrian just stands there.

“It was a legitimate question, Ayr” - he whispers at last. His voice has cracked again.

__

Ayrton doesn't sleep well after that. He is exhausted but he can't do much more than close his eyes. There's no solace in the darkness. Gerhard comes back. Ayrton hears his steps, still bare feet. They stop at the door.

"Do you hate me now?"

Ayrton sits up. He has had enough. 

"No. Gerhard, no. I love you. I am in love with you. I...here!" He lunges for his Bible. "Here, this. See?" He holds out the crumpled page of the damn magazine.

"That's how I know. It can't be Alain. He fits none of them. You do. You always have. Meu Deus, Gerhard. Haven't you seen what  _ you _ do to  _ me _ ? The laughs, the pranks, the road trips, wanting you on the podium always?"

Gerhard grabs the page and runs away.

__

It's five something when Gerhard comes back the final time. After the last conversation, Ayrton has given up on sleep. It's not how he had planned nor expected his night to go. For once in his life, he is not sure what to do or what he wants. 

Gerhard holds the article out. "This came out last year."

Ayrton nods. 

“And you have had it since?”

“No, just since the start of the season.”

“The start of the season? This season? And you kissed Alain after that?”

“Yes.”

“But you are giving this to me. To  _ me _ .”

“Yes!" - Ayrton huffs - "Yes! Because it’s  _ you _ , you crazy, stubborn, lunatic Austrian.”

Gerhard is looking at him like Ayrton has grown another head.

"You mean it." - he says - "You actually mean it."

He collapses on the bed, half on top of Ayrton, still a mess and still shaking. Ayrton grabs him and doesn't plan on letting him go.

__

"I feel like a mail-order bride." Gerhard snickers over breakfast...well, lunch. He still has the list and Ayrton has a feeling he won't be getting it back any time soon.

"I should have picked a prettier one."

"Oh, but you didn't choose me for my “ looks”, did you?  It was all my charming personality. The feelings I  _ evoke _ in you."

"Annoyance?"

"Yes" - Gerhard agrees with a cheeky grin - "Yes, of course.  _ Annoyance _ ." 

Ayrton rolls his eyes, fighting down a smile and considers stealing Gerhard’s orange juice. He is never going to hear the end of this, is he?

After the night they have had, they woke up entangled, a mess of limbs and warmth, and even as they had untwined themselves, the need for closeness still lingers. They have touched before, they are both tactile people in their own way, but it’s different now. It’s more. There's a fresh happiness bubbling up inside them, making them almost giddy, restless. Ayrton looks down at his cappuccino and thinks about slipping his hand under the fabric of Gerhard's t-shirt, imagines splaying his fingers on the soft skin of Gerhard’s stomach.

"Gerhard…" - he starts but the Austrian beats him to it. Breakfast abandoned, he rounds the kitchen counter and Ayrton happily lets himself be crowded against it. Just this once. It’s easier for Ayrton to push up on his tiptoes than it is for Gerhard to bend his neck all the way down without the risk of it hurting but neither minds. 

Gerhard tastes like orange juice and sun and Ayrton's own toothpaste. Ayrton doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t regret it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. This is the longest story I have written. Yay! I love these two and I might write about them again but work is driving me up the wall so it will not be any time soon. Do come join me on tumblr! My blog has been pretty much taken over by Bersenna so...😁
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos and commented!!!💚

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working on my summer exchange fic so I will update every 2 weeks. Comments and kudos always much, much appreciated. I am GufettoGrigio on tumblr too.


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